Page 14 of Honey Mead Murder

“All it took was berries, cream, and caffeine?”

“And sleep.” George sat on the arm of the couch. He continued to sip on the coffee. “Did Graeme and Maisie have any news? Aside from being the bearers of gifts.”

“No arrests. Lots of rumours about my being locked up. Ella Donelson is out of the hospital and telling everyone I killed her beloved husband.” Murphy finished the last bite of his sandwich. He dusted his fingers off then placed the empty plate on the coffee table. “He saw the security footage before turning it over to the police.”

“And?”

“It clears me, Maisie, and Graeme but doesn’t show who put the dry ice in the glass,” Murphy said with a frustrated groan. “So, the police don’t have a smoking gun.”

“Or smoking ice?” George took a bite of the sandwich half that he’d grabbed from the fridge. “Someone in the pub had to have done it.”

“That is correct.”

“And it wasn’t either of you three. I certainly didn’t do it. We have a short list of people who could be involved.” George thought about what he and Margo had worked out the night—or morning—before. “I know where we could start.”

“Start?”

“Start trying to solve the murder.” George set his coffee down. He found a tie in his pocket and drew his hair into a ponytail. “How hard can it be?”

“George.”

“What?” George searched his pockets before finding the paper with his notes. “We’re going to figure out who did this. My bet is on the brother or the lover.”

“I…” Murphy paused for the briefest moment. “Wait. What? Who?”

While finishing his coffee and sandwich, George updated Murphy on all the local gossip Margo had shared. It did seem a little absurd to get stuck into a police investigation. But he couldn’t get the image of the detectives leading Murphy away out of his head.

“What about the wife?”

“Also on the top of my list.”

“A three-horse race, then?” Murphy took the paper when George offered it to him. He skimmed through the thoughts they’d jotted down. “We could turn this over to the police.”

“We could.” George became fascinated with his empty cup. He counted the ice, trying not to show his disappointment.

“Or we could poke around the village. Ask a few questions.” Murphy tapped his finger against the paper. “You’ve made a good start. All three of them have a motive. First, though, we should see if an affair was actually happening.”

“True. Margo said paramedics gossip a fair bit.”

“Everyone does. We’re doing it now.” Murphy folded the paper and handed it back to him. “Tell you what. The brewery’s going to be closed for a few days because of the police inquiry. How about I head home for a shower and a change of clothes, then we take a walk through the village? See if anyone wants to chat with us?”

“A second date with a side of murder mystery?”

“I’d hate to be boring.” Murphy chuckled.

NINE

MURPHY

The magnitude of what happened didn’t hit Murphy fully until he stood in the shower. With hot water pelting him in the face, he allowed himself to work through the flood of emotions. A man had died in his pub, and he’d been considered potentially responsible.

A man had died. Or, to be more accurate, he had been murdered. Ronald Donelson had been an absolute arsehole, but he hadn’t deserved to go out on a pub floor.

The heat of the water helped clear away some of the lingering anxiety. But, despite Evan’s confidence, Murphy had been genuinely concerned. The incident did happen in his brewery, and he’d had an altercation with the man.

With no other information, Murphy might’ve suspected himself. He thanked his lucky stars he’d taken his brother’s advice to install cameras outside and inside. It had likely saved him a wealth of trouble.

Murphy finally turned the water off. Sarah’s going to kill me when she finds out we’re playing detective.

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